Is That a Train?

I’m so afraid. 
Is that the light at the far end of the tunnel 
or just a train?

That’s a quote from the Owl City song “Tidal Wave,” and it pretty well sums up where I’m at right now.

My home state of Arkansas is starting to open back up. We’re not the first in line, but we’re certainly one of the earliest to do so. Starting this week, people are going to be dining in at restaurants again. We had church in person this past Sunday (including lots of jokes about how goofy our masks looked). We are all beyond ready to get back to normal.

I have to admit that being around people again felt good. It left we wishing we could be together all the time, like before. I’m not immune to letting my emotional need for connection overcome my better judgment. I want this to end, too.

But that’s the problem: It’s not over. And giving in to the (understandable) temptation to act like it is won’t change that. In fact, it has the potential to make things much worse and undo the many weeks of sacrifice that have already been made.

We can’t afford that.

I told myself that I was going to get back to my regular writing schedule this week. I wanted to give you something more akin to my usual writing. “Enough is enough,” I said. “It’s time to get over it.”

But I’m not over it. Because it’s not over. There’s still an underlying sense of dread that washes over me every time I go into a public place. Katherine is back at her job teaching preschoolers as I’m typing this, and the possibility of her being exposed worries me every day. I want desperately to get back to a normal schedule, to a calmer mental space, to the way things were. But I’m just not there yet, because the world isn’t there yet.

I understand that neverending isolation is not sustainable. I’m glad that, at least where I live, things are reopening in stages and most people are trying to be careful. I’m extremely proud of how well my church stuck to our safety guidelines this weekend. That’s commendable, to be sure. But I worry that once we get a taste of normalcy, our desire for it might take over, and we might let our emotions get the best of us.

We all want to get back to normal, but we cannot rush it. Slowly but surely, progress is being made. But any misstep could be disastrous and send us back to the starting point. There’s a light at the end of this dreadful tunnel, and we’re starting to get a glimpse of it. But we have to be patient as we move towards it, lest we find it to be a train headed our way.

Please, let’s continue to be careful. And let’s be graceful with ourselves when we find that we’re still grappling with the emotional turmoil this pandemic has caused. It’s not over, so we can’t put too much pressure on ourselves to simply get over it.

Let’s see each other through this, friends. I’m here if you need anything. I’ll try to be back next week with something for you if I’m able; if not, I hope you’ll understand.

Pandemic Thoughts

Is it possible to know that you’re going through a traumatic event while it’s still happening to you?

That question may seem morbid or overdramatic, but I think it’s where a lot of us are right now. This pandemic is affecting us in ways we won’t understand for years to come. And for me, anyway, it’s been very difficult to navigate.

I know I haven’t written anything on here in a while, and I apologize for that. Because I work in church media, my workload has increased dramatically since this whole thing started. I’ve learned a lot about livestreaming over the past several weeks. Between that and the stress of living through a pandemic, I haven’t had the mental energy for much else, and writing got put on the back burner.

That’s part of the story, at least. I think the other part is that I’ve been afraid to write lately because I knew it would force me to face the things I’ve been feeling throughout this pandemic. I wasn’t ready for that. Now, I feel like I might be. Might.

Many are trying to put a positive spin on this ordeal, calling it an opportunity to pause, a chance to learn a new skill, or a perfect time for creative expression. While I appreciate the optimism and recognize that those things may be true for some people, for others of us, there is no silver lining to this situation. It’s just hard. It’s scary. And yes, it’s traumatic.

One of the things I’ve thought about a lot lately is how we’ll look back on this period in our lives. Many things we experience might be considered “historic,” but few have such a universal impact that we could truly call them a worldwide collective experience. This is something that all of us will remember for the rest of our lives.

But how will we remember it? How will we tell our children about it? How will we write about it in our history books?

I imagine it’ll be different for everyone. For some, it may not be all that notable—a minor annoyance and nothing more. For others, it’ll be the worst thing they ever experienced—losing a dear loved one, being let go from a dream job, going through a health battle of their own. Thankfully, my experience hasn’t been quite that difficult, but it hasn’t been a breeze, either.

I miss my family. Katherine and I make a point to get around and see everyone on a regular basis, and that has been much harder lately. We’ve tried to safely connect with our loved ones as much as we can, but it isn’t the same, and we’ve missed some big days. Sitting at home on Easter while our brothers and nephews hunted eggs without us hurt pretty deep, and it hasn’t gotten easier since.

I’m scared, not so much for myself, but for those around me. I’ve had to be out of the house for work much more than I’m comfortable with, and I worry every day that I’m going to bring home a deadly virus and infect the ones I love. Is that likely? Probably not. I am trying to be careful, after all. But it’s still a possibility, and I can’t pretend it doesn’t keep me up at night.

I worry for my friends and family who are most susceptible to this virus. For most of us, getting it wouldn’t be any big deal. But for some, it would mean a life-or-death battle with no sure outcome. That’s why we need to take precautions. No matter how careful we are, though, there’s still always a chance, and that makes me anxious.

I’m frustrated by those who aren’t taking this as seriously as they should. The lack of willingness on some people’s part to forego convenience in order to save lives is baffling and heartbreaking to me. We can’t be that selfish; we should be doing better. And the rush to “get back to normal” when we’re nowhere near prepared for reopening angers me to my core.

If this pandemic isn’t negatively affecting you personally, that’s great. I’m glad for you. But that is not the case for everyone. Please consider the many people for whom this is an actual life-or-death situation, whose lives could be destroyed by it if we don’t take it seriously enough. You’ll probably be fine, but what about them?

Truth be told, I’m one of the lucky ones. I’m healthy. No one I know has died from the virus or lost their job because of it. Katherine had to be out of work for several weeks, but we weren’t affected financially. My only real struggle has been the emotional turmoil, and that’s nothing compared to what others are going through. I’m so thankful for the many ways I’ve been sheltered from the effects of this horrible disease.

But that doesn’t mean this isn’t hard. People are dying. People are losing their jobs and homes. Lives are being destroyed left and right, right before our eyes. And I can’t be unaffected by that. It’s weighing on me in ways that I can’t even fully process right now, not even by writing it all out. That’s just where I’m at.

If you’re suffering right now, please know that I am so sorry. I’m thinking of you, praying for you, and I’m here if you’d like to talk.

If you, like me, aren’t suffering directly but can’t shake a feeling of general uneasiness in the pit of your stomach, you are not alone. This is a truly traumatic event, and you have every right to feel what you feel.

I keep hearing people say, “We will get through this,” as a way of comforting each other. I guess that’s true for the most part. Most of us will get through this. Some of us won’t, though. And those of us who do get through it won’t be same; many will be significantly worse off. So I’m not sure that the phrase is really the most helpful.

Maybe it should be something more like, “Let’s see each other through this.” Because we can get through it with minimal (yet still significant) loss, but only if we work together. Only if we sacrifice some of our comforts in exchange for the lives of others. Only if we put our own preferences aside and focus on the greater good. If we’ll do that, then yes, we will (mostly) get through this. But only if we do it together.

So let’s see each other through this thing. Stay home as much as you possibly can. Be there for each other (but not physically). Affirm the experiences of those around you and take them into account. The suffering out there is real, and we can’t just ignore it or make it worse through our indifference. We have to rise to this occasion lest we fall to it.

I know this post is a bummer, and I’m sorry about that. As you can tell, I’m not exactly in a positive place right now. Rather than leaving you on this note, I’m going to let Past Devon wrap us up with some words I wrote a month ago, when the gravity of this whole thing hadn’t been weighing on me for quite so long:

To be truthful, I am still very much hopeful for future, but I also think it’s important to recognize the difficulties people are facing right now. They are real, and they have real consequences. And those real-world effects are breaking my heart today. 

I’m thankful for each of you reading this. If you feel like you need to reach out to someone, please know that I’m available. I’ll talk to you soon. 

Be safe out there, friends.

Keeping Up

Hey, friends. I know things have been a little quite here lately. I apologize for that. This pandemic has forced the church to move all of our services online, so I’ve been pretty busy. It’s been all I can do just to keep up and stay healthy, so I haven’t had as much time to focus on my personal creative endeavors.

While things are more stressful than usual in my world, I recognize that I’m fortunate to be in the position I’m in. I’m thankful for the ability to work and the community I get to serve. I know that a lot of you are either out of work or trying to figure out how to balance working from home with taking care of your kids who are no longer able to attend school. I hope you know I’m still thinking of you.

This situation is tough to say the least. It’s thrown all of our lives out of whack in one way or another. I don’t know when it will end or what life will look when it does, but I’m thankful that we’re not going through it alone. We’re all in this together, and we’ll get through it together.

Here’s to looking forward to days when we can all leave our homes without worrying and find a new normal in a post-pandemic world. Until then, I’m here for you, even if you don’t hear from much as much on here as you’re used to. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to reach out.

Stay safe out there.

Thinking of You

Hey, friends. I know times are hard, and I’m very sorry for that. Seems that every day, the news of what’s happening the world just gets worse. I know it’s taking a toll on many of us. I wish there were more I could do than just sharing this short note.

But really, that’s all any of us can do right now: let each other know that we’re here, we care, and we’re willing to help if there’s anything we can do. That’s all this little blog post is. Just a reminder that I’m out here thinking about you, I’m here if you need me, and I hope the best for you during this difficult time.

We will get through this. There’s no telling how much damage will be done in the meantime or what the world will look like afterwards, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about life, it’s that it goes on. Not even this virus can stop that.

A lot of people don’t know how to make ends meet right now. Others are working so hard to deal with this crisis that they don’t know how much longer they can go on at this pace. Others are somewhere in between, trying to navigate this new, hopefully temporary normal the best they can. Wherever you find yourself right now, I hope you know that you aren’t alone.

So whether you’re hurting or struggling or tired or bored or anxious or apathetic or still trying to wrap your head around this whole bizarre circumstance, I’m here for you. We’re in this together, and I want you to know that I’m here.

I apologize that this week’s post isn’t the most optimistic. To be truthful, I am still very much hopeful for future, but I also think it’s important to recognize the difficulties people are facing right now. They are real, and they have real consequences. And those real-world effects are breaking my heart today.

I’m thankful for each of you reading this. If you feel like you need to reach out to someone, please know that I’m available. I’ll talk to you soon.

Fun

The saying goes that all work and no play made Jill a dull girl. Like any cliche, I think there’s a nugget of truth to that saying, but the reality of it goes much deeper. If we’re so focused on work and productivity that we neglect the parts of ourselves that require leisure and enjoyment, then dullness is going to be the least of our worries.

I’ve been working really hard lately. I don’t say that begrudgingly at all. The church is in a really pivotal time of transition, construction, and (God willing) growth, and that puts a great deal of demand on the staff. The past couple of months have been a nonstop barrage of deadlines and projects that are finally starting to culminate into something we can show the world. It’s been good, but it’s been a lot.

In the midst of that heavy workload, I’ve found myself seeking outlets for leisure. It started off unintentionally, but once I noticed it, I realized that this search was something I really needed to prioritize. My subconscious was telling me that if I was going to push myself so hard at work, then I needed to up my game when it came to recreation.

That’s manifested itself in several ways, each of which I’m really thankful for. Since the weather’s been nice, Katherine and I have been able to take Winter for walks most days. This isn’t just a fun way to spend time together; it’s also good for us physically. I went for a jog last week, too. (It hurt.) Before bed just about every night, we pull up a game on Apple Arcade and play for a few minutes. Scientifically, it may not be the best way to wind down, but I actually find it relaxing.

I’ve been trying to keep my creative side happy, too. Of course, writing here always brings a sense of fulfillment. And for fun, I’m always coming up with new ideas for things I could make, including this silly video of me playing a video game:

I’ve never done anything like that before, and it pushed me out of my comfort zone, but it was a thrill to create, and I’m happy with the way it turned out.

You might think I’m a nerd for finding these sorts of things fun, and that’s okay. Everyone has their own definition of what fun is. But whatever it is that you enjoy doing recreationally, it’s important that you spend time doing something you that brings you joy—not for work or a side hustle or any other productive reason. Just for yourself.

Maybe you like hiking in the great outdoors. Maybe you like action movies. Maybe you like dancing or acting or axe-throwing or photography or computers or any number of other things. Whatever it is that you find fun, make sure that you take time out of your schedule to relax and enjoy it. It might seem like a waste of time, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

We are hardwired to need recreation. Yes, we have an innate desire to be productive, too. But contributing isn’t enough. We also have to have fun. If we work 24/7 and never take time to enjoy ourselves, we’re going to become burned out. But if we take time for leisure activities, we’ll actually be more prepared to get back to work and do our best when the time comes.

And the harder we work, the harder we need to play. I don’t mean energy-wise. Some people even consider napping a fun hobby. (Not me.) But if you find yourself in particularly stressful or tiresome life situation, as many of us do right now, then you are in an even greater need for a recreational outlet. It sounds counterproductive, but it’s true.

We aren’t our full selves if all we do is work. It’s just not how we’re made. We need fun in order to be the best, healthiest, most fulfilled people we can be—to be who we’re meant to be. Recreation is an important part of a healthy lifestyle, and it’s something I’ve been trying to be more intentional about even as my workload has gotten heavier. I believe it’s made all the difference.

What about you? What role does leisure play in your life? What is the thing that makes you feel relaxed, happy, and light? Have you found it yet? If you haven’t, I’d encourage you to look for it. And if you have, I say lean into it. You need that hobby in your life, so don’t be ashamed to make time for it. I promise you’ll be better for it in the long run.

That’s all for me this week. Thanks for reading, and I’ll talk to you again soon!